


Trisyllabic Laxing

by HankTalking



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dirty Talk, Insecurity, Matchmaking, Multi, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:02:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HankTalking/pseuds/HankTalking
Summary: Everyone’s pairing up except the Soldier.
Relationships: Demoman/Scout/Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Engineer/Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Trisyllabic Laxing

Soldier had hopes for this team, he really had.

The Heavy was his first disappointment. There had been the stirrings of respect between them, (not mutual respect, mind you. Heavy still got that unimpressed look on his face whenever he talked to Soldier, even when Soldier was complimenting him on his unparalleled tactic of screaming at the enemy team until they were all dead), but all that went out the window when Soldier realized Heavy meant it when he ‘loved this doctor’. Like _really_ meant it. As in, good luck kissing before a match meant it.

Soldier let them both know what he thought of _that_. The nurse he could picture, but Heavy? Sure the man was a ruskie, layabout, sickle-sucking commie, but at least he was a _man_ about it, which was more than Soldier could say for some of his other cowardly, physically inferior teammates. Soldier had been hoping he might have a fellow warrior at his side, and when it turned out that wouldn’t be the case, he let Medic and Heavy know _exactly_ what he thought of their open fraternization.

Heavy had broken his arm for it. When that didn’t stop his ranting Medic did much, _much_ worse to him, and Soldier left respawn a shaking mess and decided he’d drop the issue.

He had new concerns after all. Heavy and Medic’s dalliances were obviously poisoning his otherwise uncompromising team; how else could he explain the issue with Engie and Pyro? As soon as he noticed, he began doing advanced arithmetic on the situation to determine—since he had no clue what the Pyro was—if the advent of excessive hand-holding was gay or not. After much deliberation, he concluded that since it was a Schrödinger's cat situation, and Schrödinger was a man, and Engie was also a man, and that if there was possibility for gay to exist then by virtue it always would (Scout had explained this complex theory to him one time), and that in the absence of recognizable hertonormativity any relationship outside societal norms would be labeled as deviant (which he was pretty sure was exactly what Scout said but Engie always used bigger words), then yes, yes it was gay. After presenting this coherent chain of clear and incriminating evidence to the Pyro, Soldier had received thirty seconds of blank, glassy stare, followed by ninety seconds of incomprehensible yet enthusiastic mumbling. Then they’d given him a slap on the ass and walked away.

So he was oh-for-two on whipping his team into shape and also his ass was sore. He thought he was out of woods at this point—that maybe he could come back later after he thought up a new strategy to break apart all these damn hooligans who had started mating like rabbits on _his_ battlefield—when he got a suspicious feeling in the back helmet, like the shadow on an anvil passing over his head.

Despite his Frenchness (and Soldier’s colorful commentary on such things), Spy had never shown any outward signs of sensuality. In fact, he was downright reserved, maybe even what would be considered a private man. Devoid of any interest in sex at all. Which made him overwhelmingly suspicious!

As soon as that thought laid its alien parasite eggs in his brain and vamoosed, Soldier kept his eyes peeled for any sign that the Spy was a queer. His vigilant was constant! It was invasive! It was unrelenting!

Which was how he was the first one to figure out Sniper and Spy were screwing each other.

“You’re crazy pally,” Scout said, shoving a hot dog in his mouth.

“I am not crazy!” Soldier slammed his first on the table, then quickly lowered his voice as he realized he could be overheard by any of the various miscreants that seemed to be about. He hissed, “I am the only vigilant one here! I am the one who had been keeping his eyes out for infiltration, for weakness in the ranks.”

“Still, Spy and Snipes?” Scout wiped mustard off his mouth with his sleeve. “I always got ace vibes from Spy, ya know?”

Soldier wrinkled his nose. “What does Spy being a starting pitcher have to do with anything?”

“Nevermind.”

“Just look at them!” Soldier made sure he wasn’t overheard as he pointed one accusing finger at the pair in question.

“…They sure are sitting next to each other.”

“ _Not that_. Look, Sniper has his feet on Spy’s lap. _Spy_. You know that frog would never let anyone touching him with any extremity he considered ‘filthy’ unless it was an extreme circumstance. A circumstance such as porking!”

Scout thought for a moment. “I dunno. He still has socks on. It’s not _that_ weird.”

Soldier gave up. He was running out of people to convince now because it seemed like the entire goddamn team was in on this conspiracy. The battlefield was no place for romance! That’s why the military banned it in the first place! If you were sleeping with your fellow soldiers, you started taking investment shares in things other than an unquenchable thirst for victory, started thinking about other things besides your love for lady liberty. Started being unable to take risks because you now had something a lot more important on the line.

The effects were already unfolding. Medic was much more twitchy with his Über now, sometimes popping it when it seemed Heavy was about to fall, even when Medic himself wasn’t in any danger. When Soldier had confronted him about, he’d mumbled that he didn’t know what Soldier was talking about, rushing away while his eyes flicked around for anyone who might be listening. Pyro wouldn’t come help flank. They just sat in Engie’s nest, puffing thoroughly for Spies, getting so outrageously defensive of him that they could spend an entire match doing absolutely nothing until the enemy team came in full force and bulldozed the final point. Once, Soldier had attacked a Spy thinking it was the enemy, only to find it was his own wandering the open windows of Well. So shamefully out of position was he that Soldier had demanded to know if he was checking up on his boyfriend in the middle of battle, to which Spy had stiffened and too-quickly denied it.

It was getting out of hand. War wasn’t supposed to be like this all…buddy buddy. War wasn’t supposed to involve picking favorites. Soldier went from feeling like a valued member of a group of comrades, to sitting on the bench during recess, watching once again as every other kid found someone they liked better than him.

His last hope, his very last hope, had been the Demoman.

Scout didn’t count because he was a fast-talking city boy, but Demo was a Mann’s Man, a true companion, who drank and swore and appreciated the fine art of explosions. Next to Heavy, he was the closest Soldier considered and equal to himself in pure, masculine energy.

Which is why walking in to find him _snuggling_ (the most un-manly of activities) with the _Scout_ (the most un-manly of men) was a _double_ double-cross. They were lying on each other, Scout asleep and Demo halfway there, the Demoman’s eye sliding closed and then snapping open again as he tried in vain to watch the television. Scout’s cheek was smushed firmly into Demo’s chest, and—as Soldier gawked in exasperation—the runner uncoiled, sliding up and resting his face in the crook of Demo’s neck, who wasted no time in running a hand absently through Scout’s hair.

It was betrayal, betrayal of the highest order! Not only was Demo no longer in ally in Soldier’s battle against slowly encroaching coupling, but he had eloped with _Scout_ of all people. Who, sure, was toned and not at all wrong when he talked about how great his butt was, but he was still _Scout_. It made Soldier’s blood boil. He turned, not even laying into the pair for unseemly conduct.

Demo had caved to his urges. He had been hit with the so-called ‘love bug’ and now Soldier was alone in this crazy, apocalyptic hellscape.

He was going to Demo a piece of his mind. Of course that had gone poorly every other time he had tried it, but Soldier didn’t really have anything better to do with his mind so shoving it unwillingly at people was one of the few things he made a habit of.

“You! Judas!”

Demo looked over his shoulder, then back at Soldier as he held his turkey sandwich. He mouthed the word ‘me?’

“Yes you! You are the one who’d been turned to the darkness in the hearts of all men!”

“Ah shite,” Demo complained. “This isn’t going to be another one of your rants about immoral we are for tuggin’ each other’s dicks, is it?”

“You bet your plaid-covered behind it is!” Soldier said hotly. “I expected better of you. I believed we could stand the tide together! That our bonds of brotherhood could withstand the lunar gravitation of hormones! That you would not fuck the first perfect ass that came your way!”

Demo raised an appraising eyebrow. “So…the darkness in the hearts of all men…is shagging Scout?”

“Yes! It is our god given American duty to _resist_.”

A smirk played across Demo’s features, tugging the corner of his well-kept facial hair into something dangerously charming. Soldier hated when he was dangerously charming. Usually he did it when he was about to ignore whatever order Soldier hat just given him.

“Well, that certainly offers some insight into _someone’s_ mental state,” Demo drawled. “Though, I should let you know: I’m not fucking Scout. _He’s_ fucking _me_.”

Soldier sucked in a breath that far to fast to be martially—or medically—acceptable. The mental image that had certainly _not_ already been in his head changed so rapidly to Demo being the one pants off while being railed against bombcart and hollering in ecstasy as his head lolled back-

No, nope, negatory! He could not think about that because that image did not exist and there was no reason to _stop thinking_ about things that did not exist.

“I-” Soldier squeaked. He shook his fist at the Demoman with all the strength he could muster. “I do not need to know which one of you is taking the other out for milkshakes!”

Demo shrugged. “You’re the one who brought it up, mate. I just thought I might correct a minor misconception.”

“The devil’s in your words!”

“Maybe.” Demo took a bite of his sandwich. “Though from the way you were all talking about ‘standing the tides together’, I’d say someone here is a wee bit more jealous than he is offended.”

Soldier’s spine spiked ramrod straight. Every muscle in his body locked, even ones he didn’t know he had like the muscle that was supposed to keep his throat from releasing air randomly and for no reason at all.

“You- how dare- I-” Soldier said in a completely calm voice that was not a babble. “I am cannot feel jealousy. Only maggots who have not reached their peak killing efficiency get green-eyed, I would have to be _lacking_ something to be jealous you brain-scrambled drunk!”

“Seems like you’re lacking the ability to fuck me as much as you want,” Demo replied idly as he grabbed the mustard. When the only sound Soldier replied with was that of slowly escaping oxygen, he added, “or maybe Scout as much as you want, since that’s what you were thinking about in the first place.”

Soldier shook with a fury so profound, Shakespearicles could have written ten thousands sonnets about it, then extended copyright law unethically for nearly two hundred years to keep making money off the pure potency. Soldier’s hands flexed, wishing to neck-snap something, but all he had was a smug Demoman in the middle of the kitchen eating some turkey. He turned on his heel and left, the sound of Demo’s deep chuckle following him all the way out.

* * *

The next time Soldier entered the common room, everyone was paired up in their respective couplings, all like a bunch of damn _lovebirds_. Or seahorses. Or termites (which mated for life and he wouldn’t let anyone forget it.) He grit his teeth.

Medic was pillowed comfortably against the Heavy Weapons Guy, a disturbing looking text in his hand that Heavy also seemed to be half looking at rather than the crummy movie rattling off on the projector. Pyro was enraptured by the film, but Engie only had eyes for them, grinning softly to himself every time they _ooo_ ’d at the cheap aliens on screen. Spy was asleep, and Sniper had offered up his thigh as a pillow.

And, of course, Scout and Demo were cuddling again. But as Soldier took his first step into the room, that changed as Demo noticed his presence and began to whisper something hurriedly in Scout’s ear. Even in the dim light of the projector, Soldier could still see Scout’s eyes widen as he suddenly affixed the Soldier with them.

“Ha!” Scout yipped, and almost immediately slapped both hands over his mouth. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly to all the heads that had turned in his direction.

But that didn’t stop him from snickering as Demo whispered more diabolical things in his ear. Soldier had found a seat, but it became instantly obvious he was not going to be able to watch the movie with the two of them giggling at him and shooting him those…those _looks_. Scout leaned up and whispered something in Demo’s ear, and the Demoman fixed Soldier with a grin that was downright ravenous.

Soldier shifted uncomfortably in the fraying armchair, considering bearing the questions that would come with a sudden departure on his part. He was saved having to make that decision however, as just as he was thinking it, Scout and Demo got up instead. Demo patted Engie on the shoulder with a _night lad_ , but other than that so one but Soldier seemed to care about their sudden strange departure. No one cared that they were up to something!

The relief at their exit was short lived, as Soldier began to worry what they might be planning. He knew plotting when he saw it, and their sniping back and forth at each other had been Plotting with a capital P.

His foot tapped an impatient tattoo on the solid wood floors until he just couldn’t take it any more. He stood up to go find those diabolical deserters.

But not five minutes into the hunt and the scent had been lost, by which I mean Soldier was stood in the middle of the various branching hallways scratching his helmet as he realized he had no idea where the duo had gone. This could not stand! He would have use all his powers of deduction to find these troublemakers, and if there was one thing he was good at it was drawing accurate and rational conclusions. Now, if he were a nefarious plot, where would he be? Above a door! He would also be a bucket in this scenario. Congratulating himself on his expert detective work, he began to check every door on base.

This got him all the way to the barracks, where he began to hear suspicious noises. Suspicious, obscene noises, and he decided to put his other investigation on hold to go explore this new flashy thing that had caught his interest. He quietly pushed open the door of origin.

Demo’s shirt was rucked up and he was panting lasciviously as Scout sucked a hickey into his neck. The sight left Soldier gobsmacked and didn’t _stop_ gobsmacking him because the longer he stood there the more he saw, such as Scout’s ass (not again!) flouncing in the air and his socks that were clinging to his calves and had he been wearing shorts ten minutes ago? Demo was no better, his expression that of pure, unhurried bliss, eye half open as he gazed sultrily across the room.

“Think we got company lad,” he said, expression unchanging as he caught sight of the frozen Soldier at the door.

Scout stopped where he was trying to author a bruise on the Demoman and rollback onto his heels. He smirked at Soldier, equally unconcerned, “yo Sol, what’s up?”

“I- you-” The art of yelling always came easily to Soldier, and to have it fail him at this crucial moment was proof that the mania that had overtaken his teammates was truly the darkest art. “I am! Investigating! Suspicious activity on this floor!”

“That right?” Scout swung his legs off the bed, and his motion could be described as nothing short a stroll as he made his way to the Soldier. The Soldier who was trying very hard not the swallow too loudly.

Demo had propped himself into a sitting position, now perching sublimly on the edge of the bed, curling a leg up to rest his chin on a knee. Both he and Scout were giving Soldier those looks again, and he did not like it one bit, no siree. He felt like a mouse between two cats. Two sexy, sexy cats.

Scout sauntered up to the door, leaning past Soldier (too damn close son) to place his palm against it. It closed with a _click_.

“Heard you want to fuck me, old man,” Scout smirked. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Like, have you seen this? ‘Course you’ve seen it, that’s why you want to tap it, you’d have to be crazy to not to, or not have _eyes_ or something like that.”

Soldier gulped, suddenly finding himself backed against the door even though he didn’t remember retreating. He looked rapidly between his two teammates. “You! Lured me in here! I have been lured!”

“We were just having a friendly snog,” Demo said innocently, lying by his very tone! “You’re the one who followed us into Scout’s room.”

“Uh.” Shit. This was Scout’s room, wasn’t it? Soldier hadn’t been paying attention, and now Scout had hands on either side of his head as he rocked up on his toes. “Uh.”

Scout caught Soldier’s gaze wandering over to Demo. “You wanna fuck my boyfriend?” he leered. “I’d let ya. I ain’t the jealous type. I’d watch, and then I’d do you, if I thought you could handle it.”

The last part was framed as a question, and the answer came when Scout shot upwards and kissed him brazenly on the mouth.

It was all the things he had been not thinking about but was now forced to confront as he was literally trapped between Scout and the door. It was hot and filled with tongue and the prospect of Demo _watching_ , of him getting off on this fired every synapse in his brain.

Which it why it should have surprised no one when he suddenly burst into tears.

“Holy shit,” Demo said as he got off the bed, alarm clear in his voice even though Soldier could barely see him through the tears now crowding his face. “Scout what the hell! Did you bite him or something?”

“No I didn’t bite him asswipe!” Scout sounded panicked, an abrupt flip from just a moment ago. “He just started freaking out! Also I’ve seen him blow off his own legs just to get over a control point, I don’t think _biting him_ would make him act like _this_.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s not here, idjit. Haven’t you done enough?”

“I told you numbnuts I didn’t do anything!”

In mortification, Soldier used both hands to pull his helmet further down over his face. He didn’t trust himself not to say anything that wouldn’t come out as pathetic blubbering, so he settled for saying nothing at all as he tried to make the world go away with his powers of telekinesis.

“Aw hell,” Demo muttered softly. He gripped Soldier’s shoulder. “Let’s sit you down lad.”

Soldier let himself be directed to a wooden chair in the corner, sitting down so hard it creaked, and burying himself further in his arms. Vaguely, he heard Demo and Scout having a muted conversation, but didn’t care to pick out the words. He just wanted this humiliating experience to be over.

The discussion stopped at some point, though Soldier didn’t realize it until someone was gently shaking his hand, just the top of it, moving skin across bone with his own light fingers. Soldier looked up to see Scout offering him a canteen. Through the blur of his vision he could just make out the bottom of Scout’s face, the anxiety palpable as he worried his lip.

Soldier took it haltingly. He tilted it back, draining a little at a time.

“Ach, you can’t be giving him that right now,” Demo’s voice called suddenly from across the room. It looked like he’d been searching in the dresser for something until a moment ago. “That’ll make him _more_ weepy.”

“It’s just water!” Scout objected. “He’s gunna dehydrate himself with how much he’s crying.”

“He could use a good cuppa probably. Calm him down. You got any of that instead?”

“Do I _look_ like keep tea in my room?”

The canteen did make Soldier’s throat feel better. A bit. He cut in with a soft, “…thanks, soldier.”

It was the first thing he’d said in a long time. Both other mercenaries froze, and Scout looked away while rubbing the back of his neck. “No problem, no problem. And uh. Sorry. We really thought it was gunna be a hot way to start off, but yeah I guess it _was_ pretty forward and I did kinda spring that on you but it was Demo’s idea! We just wanted, uh…okay I guest we really don’t got an excuse. Sorry.”

Soldier clutched both hands around the canteen. He did not look up.

That didn’t stop Demo from coming closer, taking a knee next to his chair as he tried to catch a glimpse under the helmet. “…Can you tell us why you’re crying Soldier? We might be able to help.”

“You can’t help,” Soldier replied glumly.

“Try us,” Demo insisted.

“You cannot help because you are part of the problem!” Soldier tried raising his voice only for his sore throat to get in the way. He coughed, and drank more water.

“Uh, okay.” Scout didn’t bother to come closer, just sat down directly in front of Soldier’s chair. “What problem?”

“The problem with this team!” Soldier proselytized. “Every day it’s more and more! Comrades falling! You two used be on the side of friendship but now. Now it’s just me. The last survivor.”

Scout and Demo shared a look. Demo probed, “you’re upset because…everyone’s hooking up except you?”

Soldier nodded miserably. “That isn’t a problem when everyone is friends. When everyone’s friends, you do not have to worry about if you are the favorite friend or not, you’re just friends. None of you get it. None of you know what it’s like to be the friend everyone hates.”

“No one _hates_ you laddie…”

“Then why am I the only one left?” Soldier asked softly.

“You know he’s got a point,” Scout mused. He put his hands up defensively when Demo shot a glare at him. “Not about that last part! But there’s an odd number on the team. _Someone_ was going to be left out, it’s just math. No wonder he’s scared.”

“ _Not the time Scout_ ,” Demo grit out. To Soldier, he assured, “and don’t us making the moves on you prove that we don’t want you to be left out?”

“It’s not about that,” Soldier snapped. “Anyone can _fuck_. If you were all fucking each other, I wouldn’t care! It doesn’t mean anything. I. I do not need you two making a _mockery_ of me.”

“…It’s the couples crap you’re jealous of?” Demo asked. “The hand holding and the love-sick sappy eyes?”

Soldier looked away.

“We’re not making fun of you man,” Scout said, shaking Soldier’s knee slightly. “Swear it. And we can do that dumb gay stuff too, if it makes you feel better. Look.” He slid his hand down and linked his fingers through Soldier’s. “Boom! We’re holding hands. How’s that taste?”

Soldier ran his tongue through his mouth. “Tastes like water.” His thumb bumped against the bandages. “I…no, that doesn’t count. You cannot hold hands with two people.”

“I got two hands, don’t I?” Scout held Demo’s hand. “Boom!”

“That is because we are sitting right here! If I was eating dinner and Demo was on the other side of the table, you would go sit by Demo because-”

“Soldier!” Demo pleaded. “You’re over thinking this. Scout and I like you, we like you a lot. The rest of the team does too, ‘cept when you’re spouting all that bigoted crap.”

“Homosexual romance is spreading edition in the ranks,” Soldier grumbled.

“…Does he mean sedition?” Scout asked.

“You heard what I said, shorts boy.”

“Oh yeah.” Scout wiggled his hips. “You like the shorts?”

“I think we’re getting off track lads,” Demo righted the conversation. “We’re talking about how Soldier needs a little attention, and he’s going to keep moping until he gets it. Both Scout and I are offering it up freely. To me, that sounds like something that could work, aye?”

Soldier looked down at Scout’s hand in his. He rubbed his thumb against the bandages again. “…Will there be cuddling involved?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

“Cuddling is the most unmanly of activities.”

Demo rolled his eye. “Sure Soldier, whatever you say.”

Taking on last hesitant breath, Soldier looked up to get a clear view of the faces looking at him. No longer distorted by waterworks, they were oddly soft, even Scout with his stupid dopey grin. Soldier cautiously reached out and took Demo’s hand.

“Aw, isn’t this nice,” Demo said of the circle they’d made. “Bunch a bonnie wee sweethearts we are.”

“Yeah yeah,” Scout said. “So Sol, this all you wanted to do or were you actually looking to get in on this?” He broke chain to jerk a thumb at the bed.

“I am interested,” Soldier agreed. “But! I am only coming to bed with you if you get rid of those stupid voices. You sound like you are trying to get me to exchange my soul for a used car.”

Demo snorted. “Fine, no more games.”

“Totally vanilla,” Scout said. “Yeesh, we still know how to do that?”

“Time to go find out, cremepuff!”

* * *

They disobeyed Soldier’s orders about the cuddling. Immediately.

It was an ambush, a damn ambush I tell you! One minute they had all been watching TV in the commons, and the next both of them were asleep, leaving Soldier trapped in the middle and unable to move even though his bladder demanded it most fiercely. Scout was laid with as much of his surface area as possible across Soldier’s lap, and Demo had snuggled into Soldier’s shoulder, snoring softly. It was mortifying. Yet some part of his Soldier training told him that it was very important he did not wake them.

A silhouette at the entrance to the kitchen. Oh no.

Two silhouettes as Sniper and Spy came through, the Sniper stopping in shock as he bore witness to the scene in front of him. Silently, he elbowed Spy, a grin spreading across his face. Spy waved him off, and it took a second eblow for him to finally look up from the newspaper he was carrying.

“Well well well,” he said, smile more restrained than Sniper’s but just as smug.

“You mention this to anyone, you’re dead Frenchie,” Soldier growled. It might have been intimidating if Demo hadn’t chosen that instance to wrap a free arm around Soldier’s middle.

“Not a word,” Spy agreed, and Soldier did not believe him in the slightest. He glared as he and Sniper walked out.

However, with them gone, Soldier still didn’t move. He sighed, wrapped an arm around each of the men to the side of him, and pulled them closer in.


End file.
